Dreams on the Wing, Beyond the Stars
by jkthestral
Summary: She didn't know where she was from. She didn't know who she was. All she knew was him, and that he would never leave her, and never break her. / He knew who he was and who he loved. He had family. Yet someone who fell from the stars, and here he was, making promises of dreams. OOC, Amnesiafic, OC/Azriel
1. Prologue

"_To the stars who listen - and the dreams that are answered." - Rhysand, Lord of Night, A Court of Wings and Ruin by Sarah J. Maas_

I remember falling, falling, through fire and cloud and mist, through the stars and spirits, racing me down to the ground and earth. The burning as I freely careened out of the sky, the wild wind tearing me apart. The fear that caused me to scream noiselessly, my voice disappearing as the speed of my descent tore it away, as gravity whisked me down. Then suddenly, arms, cold arms, catching me, holding me, their touch shadowy light as if they were nothing more than a dream or nightmare as if I were nothing more than faded spirit, weightless. As we softly floated down, the night air warming against my skin, cooling my burns. Whoever held me, I somehow knew I could trust them, knew instinctively that it was he, and that he would never hurt me. The tension and fear and pain all melted away, my soul and my mind melded with his, calming me, and inside him, I could hear a song, singing me softly to sleep.

And so I slept.


	2. Chapter 1: Star Wanderer

_There are those who'll tell you you're wrong _

_They will try to silence your song _

_But right here is where you belong _

_So don't search anymore _

_You are the dawn of a new day that's waking _

_A masterpiece still in the making _

_The blue in an ocean of grey _

_You are right where you need to be _

_Poised to inspire and to succeed _

_You'll look back and you'll realize one day _

_Wanderer's Lullaby, Adriana Figueroa_

"Azriel, wake up! You're going to sleep right through Starfall!" The man named Azriel groaned in his sleep, pulling the dark covers over his head. "Go away, Mor."

"Starfall is already spectacular tonight, you missed the first star of the night." The bright-eyed Morrigan quipped. The blankets stopped shifting, and Mor took the opportunity to yank them off.

A sleepy-eyed Az sat up. "I'm coming."

True to his word, a sleep-mussed Azriel in his less-than-rumpled finery joined his friends, the closest to a family he had, on the balcony of the House of Wind about a half-hour later. "Sorry to drag you out of bed, shadow singer, but you had to see this Starfall."

Cassian said, standing by Nesta, or as close as he possibly could get. As soon as the man really saw what tonight's Starfall had, his eyes widened. Even Amren, as much as this night unsettled her, had made a rare appearance. Feyre, glowing the same pale shade as the falling stars, sighed from the other side of his High Lord. "I will never get enough of this night."

"Do you truly like this so much you're glowing? Maybe I should bottle star-spirit and give it to you." His High Lord, Rhysand, said to his High Lady. She laughed in return, "But Rhys, you make me glow too."

"Oh yes, I haven't forgotten that, Feyre darling." Rhysand purred. Cassian, looking interested, asked Nesta, "Is it a sisterly thing for them to glow when they cum, or is it just Feyre? Because if it's sisterly, I'm sure I can make you burn, firedrake."

"I think it is the wrong type of glow you want from me," Nesta snapped and went to stand by Elain, pointedly ignoring the fact Elain was hand-in-hand with Lucien. Amren laughed, "You are living on borrowed time, Cassian."

Cassian chuckled in reply, and Nesta huffed angrily. Azriel spoke, the first couple of words since emerging. "I wonder what made this night in particular so beautiful."

Elain gasped, and collapsing into Lucien's arms, she tried to lift herself, limbs moving as if in freefall, then, just as suddenly, she froze, and seemed herself again. "What is it, Elain?"

Nesta asked, shoving Lucien out of the way to cradle her sister. Feyre drifted away from Rhysand and settled next to the pair. Elain lifted a pale, shaking hand, and pointed to the sky. "Watch out!"

She took a breath and fainted. Azriel looked to the sky as the others tended to her, eyes wide as he watched the sky for what had frightened her so. Whether it was an attack or a meteor, he did not know, but their enemies had lain dormant since their great defeat, and there had been no warning signs of something on a crash course to destroy their home. And he saw it. Running towards the edge, he leaped into the sky, winnowing from mid-air to space, avoiding falling stars and splattering star-spirit alike still flying, winnowing, flapping, winnowing, rising, winnowing again and again, as the distance he winnowed got shorter and shorter, to collide with the thing he had seen, catching a body in his arms. He flared his wings, gliding gently down, a blackened, glowing body smothered in star-spirit and fire, still burning. Cassian flew to greet him. "Elain's all right, but it frightened her, whatever she saw. She didn't say. She won't say."

"Are they...whatever they are...alive?" Azriel, still flying, shifted the body to check for a pulse. He nodded grimly when he found one and flew noticeably faster. Cassian grimaced and held his arms out. "I'll winnow them down. Go rest. You're too tired to winnow again."

The burned body shook, coughing, and reaching as much as they could, gripped Azriel's hand. Azriel turned to shadow, and blinking, found himself standing amidst his friends. Cassian was right behind him. "Fuck, Az, you don't have the energy to do that! You're gonna burn yourself out!"

"I didn't." He replied, surprised. Everyone froze, and then, there was a sudden riot of action. Az stood in the middle, still as midwinter earth, as the girl was bundled out if his arms, as his burns were treated and healed. A touch at his shoulder startled him out his statue-like state. "Azriel, what's wrong?"

Feyre asked softly. He turned to look at her, arms finally falling to rest at his sides. "I'm…"

He started. All this time, and here he was, about to lie to his High Lady. He didn't know what was wrong. Her touch...the touch of that girl, her hand on his arm, the rush of white-hot and the sudden avalanche of burning emotions. Unknown to him, the shadows wrapped around him deepened. He finally told Feyre, "I don't know. She's...the emotions...they're..."

"They're unexplainable. Aren't they, Az?" Rhysand cut in smoothly. Azriel nodded, sinking further into his shadows, face expressionless, but his eyes showing everything. "Feyre darling, go back to tend to her. I have a feeling your skills will be necessary here. I will talk to Azriel."

Rhysand strode over in time to catch Az as he stumbled. Feyre helped him down to the couch, then left in the direction of the girl. "Did Feyre ever tell you about what I told her? That I stumbled back and winnowed away before she could say anything? That is what I did when the bond snapped into place between us."

"She never told me. I...I've never felt something like that before." Azriel replied slowly. Rhys smiled. "Yes, you have. Not quite to that extent, but something similar. The Morrigan."

"Though it wasn't quite as overwhelming, was it?" Rhysand added quietly when Az looked sharply at him, his shadows fading ever so slightly. Steps echoed across the room, and both looked up. Amren stood at the entrance to the hallway, hands on her hips, still somehow terrifying despite not having her former aura. "Azriel, she's asking for you."

The shadowsinger's eyes widened. "She...she is? She's awake?"

"Of course she's awake if she's asking for you!" Amren snapped. Az flinched, having realized the stupidity of the question, but stood up and walked towards her, the shadows fading and deepening with every alternating step. "Elain's fine, Nesta's hovering over her, but Elain finally said what scared her."

Amren said matter-of-factly. Rhysand shifted, Azriel pausing at the doorway. Amren continued grimly. "The girl is made High Fae. She's not only that however, but she also comes from another world. Not mine, not Bryaxis's, nor the Bonecarver. Elain glimpsed what she could possibly do, and what she did to fall here. She was-"

"I don't care," Azriel growled suddenly, unnervingly un-Az-like, his eyes flashing, shadows slinking away from him. "I don't care if she was a murderer of children or if she was the King's friend or the Cauldron itself, but what room is she in?"

Amren fell silent. Rhys looked at Azriel and laughed, surprised, eyes crinkling with both mirth and surprise, as if the laugh had not been expected, even by himself. "Even your shadows are scared of you right now."

Amren explained when Azriel tilted his head, looking somewhat peeved, and his shadows swept back, like a tidal wave to swirl around him, his own little whirlpool of darkness. Amren joined Rhysand's mirth quietly, hand sliding up to cover her small mouth. Rhysand gestured towards the hall, now purely amused, still chuckling. "I had them put her in Feyre's old room."

"Oh!" Amren said just before Azriel stomped off. He did not turn to look at her, but paused in the hallway, hand on the wall. "You may be surprised, for she looks much different now."

Turning, he stared hard at her, hand tightening into a fist, then swept out of the room, shadows snaking after him.


	3. Chapter 2: Promises

_Let's set fire to the lonely night_

_You're beautiful when you look at me_

_Let's give love another life_

_Cause you'll be safe in these arms of mine_

_Just call my name on the edge of the night_

_And I'll run to you, I'll run to you_

_I would run to you, if you want me to_

_Just give me some kind of reason_

_I'll take the pain, take it all away_

_Just give it some kind of meaning_

_Let's let go, let it be the start_

_You know I'm feeling the same thing_

_Let's let go of our broken hearts_

_Run to You, Lea Michele_

I breathed in the fresh air, relishing the use of my lungs without the burning fire settled in my chest. Shaking, I weakly fought whatever tangled me, held me constricted, managing only slight shivers and painful twinges like knives stabbed in between my ribs as I tried vainly to lift my ironbound limbs. They refused, and with a shudder and a sigh, I sank into a bed as soft as lamb's wool, wrapped in cool, silken sheets light as spider's webs. Hands like winter's first kiss of snow soothed my flaming skin, brushing across my face. I leaned into their touch, so familiar, perfect and comforting. They paused, rising from my side, the coolness leaving my face. I didn't want them to go, and wincing at the pain that tore through my chest, my voice breaking and hoarse. "No-"

"Shh-" Their voice was male, soft, yet powerful and deep, like shadowy monsters brought to life, "Don't try to speak yet. You need to rest."

He went to stand again. I lifted a hand, to try and stop him, cursing my slow movements. "Please."

Whether it was my hand on his, or my pleading tone, he stopped, and sat down again, his weight settling on the edge of the bed. Tracing the line of my jaw and cupping my chin, his hand was rough with bumpy ridges of what felt like scars, and calluses, as if he had spent his whole life working with his hands. But someone like that wouldn't be here, in a place where the sheets felt like satin and silk, the bed like a downy nest. His touch was intimate, but exploring, curious. I didn't care. I forced open my eyes, lids heavy with comfortable drowsiness and head aching with the pain I felt all over my body. "Who...are...yo-u?"

"That's not important right now. Rest, and recover. You are safe, and I promise you always will be." His hand gripped mine as I went to reach for him. In my slowly-less-blurry vision, he was dark, shadowed, intense hazel eyes bright against tanned skin and features like those of picturesque Fey painting. Large, bat-like wings with wicked claws tucked close into his body stood out over the lines of his shoulders, clothed in deep blue. He looked like a god of the starry, midnight sky, framed in moonlight as he was. Something deep inside me relaxed, and I with it. I knew I would be safe with him, that he was the missing piece I needed. "Sta-y...with...me-e?"

His beautiful face blossomed into a smile that would outshine the stars and the sun itself. "Forever and always."

* * *

Rhysand sighed, attempting to relax into the arms of his Feyre, yet every muscle in his body stayed taut with energy. Amren had refused his request to continue after Azriel had left, and the look in her eyes said she would say no more unless either allowed it, or spoke themselves. Azriel had not left the room, instead, he sat stone-still on the edge of the bed, the girl's hand clenched tightly around his. He had not even stood to bow to his High Lord when Rhys had went to see the girl, no reaction at all. "What's wrong?"

Feyre asked, a curious, but worried look creasing her brow. Rhys sighed again. "Azriel is not himself."

"No, he is not." She agreed, her voice odd. That something in her tone, something peculiar, caused him to look at her, studying her face until she turned away. "He is not himself. Neither is she. She fought our healing until he came to her. Before that, she would shield herself, wrapping herself in shadows similar to what Az does, but not quite. Once he came to her, she stopped shielding, and she let herself be taken care of."

Feyre paused, considering. Rhys silently gestured for her to continue. "Although, we didn't have to do much, her body cleaned up the burns faster than we could, and sealed up any injuries she had. The one thing that didn't heal, though, was when we turned her over, she had two long, fairly identical gashes across her back, from shoulder blades straight down to just above her hips. They scarred over, but didn't replace with fresh skin, like everything else did. Before it knitted together, I saw bone there that shouldn't be there normally."

"She is supposed to have wings." Rhysand supplied. Feyre nodded agreement. He watched her closely, as her eyes looked somewhere farther than him, glazing over as she recalled the memory. He left her to her own mind, knowing she did not need him, and encircling her in his arms, he thought back to Amren's very short dialogue after Azriel had left. Her storm-grey eyes had flashed with a hint of her former power when he had asked her to continue, and she had said nothing clear except for; "She is safest here, in our trust, and if we are to be in her good favor, let them be. She is not dangerous unless she is broken. Elain knows her power, and will never speak of it again, but know this, they are powerful together, and they will never be apart again."

Feyre shifted in his arms, breathing softly, already asleep. He looked down at her, his High Lady, and wondered if they would ever have a normal life. As Made, and High Fae, nothing around her would ever be normal, he supposed, and sighed, attempting to relax in his own home, in the arms of his love.


	4. Chapter 3: Awakening

Without the light

Oh, the darkness comes

Hold through the night

Mmm, the shadows will run

Mmm, fend off the enemy

Sing out the jubilee

With all the fire we can breathe

We're singin' all day

and you can't tame it

High tide, low tide, you know

Night time, mornin' time, and

We're goin' strong

Headed up, down the river

Oh, Lord, I feel the reveling

I feel a change on the rise

What good's a man

Who's lost his soul

Can't take a stand

Mmm, when his flame's gone cold

Mmm, fend off the enemy

Sing out the jubilee

With all the fire we can breathe

Change on the Rise, Avi Kaplan

I floated there in the darkness, cradled in the songs of his soul, in the gentle whispers of the shadows wrapping around me like gauzy blankets. Ever so softly, his voice murmured, the deep rumble like darkness given sound, "Sleep, my mate."

Wanting to answer, but unable, trapped inside my mind, I curled within the confines of his soul, tied to it as I was. I could not remember where I was from, or why I fell from the sky to the person by my side. I tried to remember, but all that came was visions of red, a scarlet shade of blood, and things that I could not recall, fuzzy, escaping me like sand through my fingers. I made a sound of frustration, running my hands through my non-existent, imagined hair, and winced as I felt something sharp pierce my soul, imagination-body. Pulling my hands away, I looked at them. Neatly honed to a point, my nails looked more like claws, glinting faintly in the soft, starry light of his soul. My hands were covered in blood-no, scarlet-and-black dye, tattooing my skin with faint swirls of unidentifiable symbols and images of what reminded me of the phrase "death on wings". At the center of each palm was a stylized image of two wickedly curved blades, edges like waves of fire, the shape, the feel, so intimately familiar. Without warning, blood appeared on my hands, looking like I had dipped them in it. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, if it was actually there. Inching its way up my arms, my legs, drenching me in blood, I was swimming in it. I started screaming, losing control of my body, my mind blinded by the blood and the anger and the fear running through, and my heart stopped.

I heard it stop.

I heard it cease pumping.

I felt my body turn cold, the blood drenching me, filling my mouth with salt and tears and pain.

And I felt a tug on my soul.

"I see blood on my hands too."

Like the mountains' deepest roots.

I looked up.

Cold, infinite night.

He pulled on my soul, and I came to him. Like a moth to a flame.

"It helps if you don't hide in the darkest parts of your soul."

He held a hand out to me. I resisted the tug, hesitating. The darkness was the only place I had left.

"Azriel is waiting for you. It is time to wake up. You have slept long enough."

A female voice joined him, matching his like a huntress tamed her dogs. But no, this huntress tamed wolves and monsters, the feral creatures of the night.

"It was...hard...to find you."

She added. The tug stayed, but so did I. Stubbornly, I resisted the loving, gentle pull. I didn't deserve it.

"Who is Azriel?"

The name flowed off my tongue, smoothly, like shadows slid with the moon. They both hesitated. I waited as they quietly deliberated, then finally asked.

"Where am I?"

A quiet sigh from the male figure, both obscured from my vision.

"In Prythian, in a world our Seer tells us is separate from your own."

My confusion was overridden by an immense sense of relief I didn't know.

"I don't know where I am from."

I sensed hesitation from the both of them.

"We don't know either. But we can explain all of this when you awaken. It was hard to find you, and hard to stay."

She answered, swiftly, as their images began to fade. He added, a faintly amused tone emanating,

"And do wake up soon, Az is worried, and he's not moving."

She swatted at him. He avoided her primly, her voice echoing, as if over a long distance.

"Don't tell her that now! You just saw her mind, she has other things to worry about than Az-"

Her voice faded too much for me to hear. I knew something was different, and somewhere, I knew here, this Prythian, was better. This Azriel, the tug, the bond, was waiting. I followed the tug, and my heart began to beat, slower than before, and the blood dripped off my skin, escaping into shadows that swept it away and returned to my side, supporting me with a warm darkness like his voice when I had heard it.

My body stirred. I forced open my eyes, shuddering as pain splintered through my body. My newly opened eyes were unblurred, seeing gauzy curtains, flowing down from a hoop, like a circlet of twisting, spiked silver, from which they hung. It connected to a high ceiling of what looked like stone, a night sky shimmering with stars painted upon it. Moonlight filtered in, and as I turned my head, I could make out a terrace, and beyond, a frigidly snowy mountain range. It was strangely warm, almost suffocatingly so, despite being so high up I could see the stars and moon beyond, as they set above a peak. I turned my head the other way, seeing a dresser near the foot of my bed, my own form under white, silken sheets, and finally, the man named Azriel. The tug on my soul, the warmth, the missing piece of my soul. "Azriel."

My voice rasped with unuse, cracking with dryness. He stirred, limp shadows on his back rising slightly, his head coming up to look at mine, our eyes meeting. Those intense hazel eyes set against an ethereally elegant, and beautiful, more beautiful than a man should be, face, unreadable, shadowed, hollowed with exhaustion. His hand came up to cup my face, and this time, I could see the horrific scarring I had felt before. "You're awake."

It was more of a question than a statement, his own voice, like darkness given sound, rusty, cracking. I answered, clearing my throat, my voice a little stronger.

"I'm awake."

A quiet sense of relief came from his presence in my mind. I reached up to brush his fingers, and he jerked back, both mind and body. "I-"

I was cut off by the sound of the door opening with a bang. "Azriel."

A petite woman with stormcloud-silver eyes and shoulder length midnight hair glided in, following the form of a taller golden haired warrior princess, eyes of chocolate brown flashing with some nameless emotion. She looked like the female Day counterpart of the man's infinite Night. The other woman-I shuddered. Silver eyes flashed with power, unsettling, and I saw a flash of wings made of fire, swirling, glowing mist trapped behind glass, some otherworldly creature, so much like me. "Mor."

His voice was flat, emotionless. Mor, as he called her, recoiled. "She-she really..."

Her honey-smooth voice trailed off, her eyes showing concern, and then worry, then freezing into ice-cold emotions, set off by the flowing blood-red dress she wore. Citrus and cinnamon, she was. But the girl behind her...I scented the air, my senses stronger than ever. Involuntarily, I gasped, and Mor looked at me sharply. Azriel shifted, ever so slightly, and his hand slid to mine. The woman behind her crossed her arms and _laughed_. Mor and Azriel both started, and Mor not-so-subtly stepped away from her friend. "This one has sense!"

"You smell like blood?" I asked stupidly, my voice rising higher with every word. She waved her hand. "Don't worry about me."

I looked curiously at her. "What about your former form?"

She looked at me. "You can see that?"

"Should I not?" I asked, my head cocking to one side. Mor cleared her throat, bringing our attention back to her. "I came to introduce myself. And to see if Azriel was awake. My name is Morrigan. Lil Miss Firedrake here is Amren."

Amren shot her a glare that could kill. I shuddered at the sight of it. "Mor, Amren, what are you doing here?"

Azriel growled, voice filled with tightly checked anger. Morrigan shrugged it off. "Checking on you. I'll see you later-ta-ta!"

With that, she swept out of the room, but just as she left, I glimpsed an expression of deep remorse. Amren looked at us, not having followed Morrigan out. She looked at Azriel, then me, and simply said, "Don't do anything idiotic."

We looked at each other as she also swept out of the room, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Azriel, was it?"

I said slowly, as we came out of our reverie. He looked down at our intertwined hands, and the shadows swirling around him came to explore the path of my skin. He nodded, and asked, "And you are?"

Squinting, I attempted to remember. Like a pet, I absentmindedly stroked his hand through the shadowy substance, somehow familiar, not so frightening. "I...I don't know."

"Do you...want to know?" He asked, his voice just as slow, curious, questing. My confusion must have been evident on my face. "We have a Seer, who saw glimpses of you."

A face flashed into my mind, beauty in pure sweetness, eyes glazed in fury, a wicked knife, hilt of obsidian, sheathed in black embossed with silver runes, gripped in a white hand too soft and too clumsy to be used to it. A name appeared in my mind. "Truth-teller."

"What?" His gaze snapped to mine, no longer shy, hidden by the darkness drifting around him. I realized I had spoken aloud. "Truth-teller. Elain Truth-teller."

"Another like the Morrigan." He murmured in reply. Then he realized something, and his face flashed into confusion. "How do you know her name?"

"Whose?" My voice softened, trying not to anger him, a natural response I didn't know. "Our Seer. Her name is Elain."

His voice was patient, yet I could hear the confusion, and slight worry in it. We sat for a moment, until a rumble, not unlike an avalanche, sounded in the room. My own stomach echoed it. Azriel and I looked at eachother. "Hungry?"

He asked, blushing lightly. I nodded. "I'll go get us some food."

Standing, he offered a hand to me. I took it, and throwing back the covers, I stopped. I was clothed in a soft white nightdress, but underneath, glowing bronze skin covered toned, but thin legs. Everything in my mind screamed 'Not mine!'.

Releasing Azriel's hands, I looked at my own, the same bronzed skin covering thin, pretty fingers, tapered forearms leading into barely rounded forearms. Hairless, beautiful nails. Leaping off the bed, uncaring of the wide-eyed Azriel, I ran two steps to the mirror and tore off the nightdress into strips, my strength different, the length of my stride different. I didn't know who I was before, but this was not who I had been, that I knew. Tears, unbidden, came to my eyes, and I traced my hands over my body, making sure it was now mine. Dancer's legs, long and fragile-looking, but strong. Wide hips, a slightly rounded stomach, a matching slightly chubby waistline, but I didn't care. Whoever I used to be, subconsciously, didn't care. My ribs didn't show, but I could feel them as my beautiful hands glided over them. Soft, peaked breasts. Angled shoulders with a clear neckline, chin lifted high, tapered ears. Smooth, bronzy skin with the glow of life, blushing high on my cheekbones, a more rounded face that still had that strong jawline and high forehead, but features softer and pretty instead of masculine and chubby. "I'm beautiful."

I whispered. Then I turned. My back had two long scars, parallel, from the middle of my shoulder blades down to the top of my pelvis area. Azriel cleared his throat, loudly. I turned to look at him, shaken out of my reverie by the scars. He had his back turned, the tips of his pointed ears slightly pink, a hand extended behind him holding a set of clothes. I blushed, and covered myself instinctively. "Sorry."

Azriel nodded, still looking away, while I grabbed the clothes. "Bathroom is through the open doorway. If you...want to take a warm bath, just turn the knobs."

"That...sounds nice." I turned and took a step towards the opened door, only for my legs to falter beneath me. Falling, I didn't even see Azriel move until I found myself in his arms, bare skin against his body. "Oh."

I said, rather surprised, still clutching the clothes against my body. He hefted me in his arms, then looking past me, strode towards the bathroom. I could see the blush starting just past the shadows drifting around him. Reaching out an arm past his shoulder, I traced a finger down the slightly furry membrane of his wing. Azriel shuddered, uttered a growl, and stopped. "Please...don't...do that."

He dropped to a knee, balancing me there for a moment while he caught his breath. "Sensitive?"

I asked. "Extremely."

He gritted out. Then, like a dog shaking his head to free it of water, he shook himself free, stood, and continued striding towards the bathroom. The interior was beautiful, one wall open, with the bath the size of a small pool flowing out the side and into nothingness. He set me down carefully at the edge. "I'll get someone to help you."

And like that, he turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him, not looking at my blushing face, or the fact that I hadn't minded his touch, despite only having met him properly today. Carefully testing, I reached out with my mind towards his, only to find a wall of shadow blocking the trail of glitter that led me to his soul. A soft knock sounded. "Come in."

I called, A tall, slender girl with caramel brown locks entered, wearing a simple robe, an ethereal glow emanating from her pale skin. "My name is Feyre, I'm one of Azriel's friends."

Her voice was like that of a hunting goddess, powerful, yet lovely. I recognized it. "You're the girl in my dreams!"

She considered this for a moment, head tilted to the side. "I suppose you could call them dreams. I would call it mind, but I suppose that doesn't quite fit either."

Taking the clothes from me, Feyre set them aside on a low table, and, lifting me with strength belied by her slender form, she dipped her toe in the water, and immediately, steam burst from the surface of the water. "Tell me if it's too warm for you."

Feyre lowered me into the water, and I sighed, relaxing into the warmth so different from when I had been falling. The door slammed open, and both of us jumped. Standing in the doorway was a naked Morrigan. "I'm going to join you."

She announced, and marched in, throwing a fluffy towel over the clothes, and taking a leaping step in, splashing both Feyre and I. "Mor."

Feyre's tone was reproachful. Morrigan waved a hand at her. "It's alright, it's alright, get in here. There's room enough for Amren too."

"Pfffft!" I laughed, and it echoed off the bath tiles. Both Morrigan and Feyre looked at me and smiled, and I could see some measure of relief in their faces. All of a sudden, my stomach growled. And this time, Morrigan and Feyre laughed. "I'll get Nuala and Cerridwen to bring us some food if you're hungry."

Feyre gasped between giggles. I nodded emphatically, and Morrigan said, "I want some too."

Nodding, Feyre entered into the water, and as it touched her skin, little butterflies of steam fluttered away. I gasped in amazement, reaching out to touch one as it landed on Morrigan's hair. Seeing my interest, Feyre waved her hands, and they turned to little star balls floating in the air. Nuala and Cerridwen soon arrived, introduced themselves, and hurried away, as we continued to splash, play, and eat bites of food in between soap and cleaning. After all was done, Feyre and Morrigan helped me into a silky night robe, and led me back to the bed. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was Feyre and her dark mate looking at me, Azriel joining me by my side, worry and sorrow in their gaze.


	5. Chapter 4: Memory

_Too many days in the darkness_

_Without a glimpse of the light_

_Runnin' tired and broken and scared_

_But I swear I'll never give up the fight_

_I see you broken and beaten_

_Hat pulled down over your eyes_

_Every part of you wants to surrender_

_But darlin' you were meant to survive_

_With every start, we are born again_

_Open your heart, spend less time in your head_

_Just like a seed in a garden, you will grow to be tall_

_Staring out over miles of land without ever wanting to build up walls_

_Lift me up in your branches, we can watch the sun rise_

_Just a couple of bruised up souls that believe that it was worth one more try_

_With every start, we are born again _

_Open your heart, spend less time in your head_

_With every start, we are born again _

_Open your heart, spend less time in your head_

_Born Again, Michael Shynes_

I awoke to the quiet sounds of his breathing, soft and rhythmic, cradled in his arms. Sitting up, I looked out towards the mountains. Snow drifted past my balcony, beyond, a pale sun just beginning to awaken at the border between land and cloud. I slid my legs out from under the covers, and leaning against the bedposts, I rose shakily. Azriel stirred, then lay still, the quiet sounds returning to its steady pattern. Looking at him, I saw the shadows of another face within his, chocolate brown hair, a face not quite so elven-looking. Then, blinking, the image disappeared, replaced by sorrow, inescapable, despairing. Carefully, I walked towards the balcony,steadying myself as I went. Staring out into the city lights, so many pieces of memories I couldn't remember the words to flooded me, and I collapsed against the railing, holding myself to the slender bars. The snow fell around me, soft white flakes gently gliding down to earth, but was this the earth I knew? Threads of music wrapped around me, warm, and the words came to me, "_Someone told me, but I won't know…_

_That I feel half empty, ripped and torn…"_

Pausing, I leaned against the railing, reaching up towards the dark sky, cold and forbidding, so different from the warmth inside the mansion that they housed me in. Was this where I truly belonged? Opening my mouth, I continued my song, somehow comforting, despite not knowing where it came from, from within me, somewhere I didn't recall.

"_Ooh, I don't want this to break you_

_Ooh, but I've got no one else to talk to_

_I don't know if you mean everything to me_

_And I wonder, can I give you what you need?_

_Don't want to find I've lost it all_

_Too scared to have no one to call_

_So can we just pretend_

_That we're not falling into the deep end?"_

Looking towards Azriel, I saw him stir, and the limp shadows that were his wings raise, and settle. Did I truly want to remember? I winced as pain coursed through me at the thought, the same pain I felt with the sorrow that came with the whispers of memories. "I don't want to remember."

I said aloud, shocking myself just a little. It had been unconscious. "I don't want to remember my past."

"Well, that settles that then, I suppose." Azriel sat up, stretching and yawning. I nodded in agreement. "Come in, aren't you cold?"

"Not particularly. I like this over the stuffy sort of warmth in there." I answered as he got out of bed and walked over to me, stopping at the door. I held my hand out to him, and he shifted, then came, helping me up. "We call this the House of Wind."

He told me solemnly. I looked around. It certainly made sense. So near the sky, where the wind blew sure and strong, the many balconies, built into the mountain-top. "It's beautiful here."

"We use this place as the headquarters, for the Court of Dreams." There was a strange inflection in his voice, but I ignored it, looking out over the city that seemed his home. "The Court of Dreams."

The words fit in my mouth. I looked around again. Bright colors did not match the dreary sky in the city. "Is the weather always like this?"

"No. Most often it is clear out, but many citizens don't mind the sky at day. This is the city that lives by starlight." He gestured towards the city as he spoke. The strangeness was gone, instead replaced by a soft affection. "It's most beautiful by night."

"Why live here and not in the city?" I asked. He pointed towards the river. "Rhysand does have a townhouse, near the river, but this is most suitable for viewing Starfall, and this is where I am when I am not traveling."

"What is this Starfall?" I squinted into the sky, hoping to see a rare first-light star. "The way we of Velaris, the city of starlight, celebrate the Spring Equinox."

He inclined his head as Rhys strode onto the balcony.

"Azriel."

Rhys acknowledged, clapping Azriel on the shoulder. "It's good to see you both awake."

Silent understanding passed between them, and Azriel briefly hugged me to him, shocking me only a little, and left silently. I looked at Rhysand. "You are Rhysand, correct?"

"Yes, I am. This is Prythian, and welcome to Velaris. You had...a sort of uncommon entry." He laughed, a rich sound. I nodded in agreement. "How long have I been here?"

"It's been a week, nearly." I looked at him. "Has it really?"

"Yes, and a week since we've seen Azriel outside your room." His eyes were laughing, his tone sounded serious. I hugged myself, starting to get a little bit cold. "Here, let's get you inside."

He extended a graceful hand, and I gratefully took it, as he escorted me back into the magically warmed room. "Is it...magic? What you use here, to warm the room?"

"Yes, why my ancestors built this palace in the mountains, I don't know, but my magic is linked to keeping this place warm no matter the weather outside." He sighed. "I didn't come here to chat with you about this."

My gaze must have turned worried, for he laughed, and sat me down on the bed, remaining standing himself. "Don't worry, it is nothing truly major. Would you like to live here?"

I considered it. I had no other place to turn to, as I knew nothing of this place, Prythian. "Prythian?"

He nodded. "Here, in...Velaris?"

"Yes." He answered. I wanted to find out more about Prythian and Azriel, his friends. "Yes...yes I'd like to live here."

"That's settled then. We'll teach you more about here, your mating bond with Azriel." He began. I cut him off. "Is that what you call it? That glittery trail?"

"You can see it? In your mind?" His voice sounded ever so slightly incredulous. I nodded. "What is the mating bond?"

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I'll go back to the basics. It's a Cauldron-made bond between two strong Fae to ensure the continuation of our people. Some people find it, and it's very precious and rare. Azriel felt it snap in place between you when he caught you."

"I felt it too. It felt like being wrapped in light." I wasn't too surprised. It didn't feel too strange to me, and I didn't mind it. It was comforting, to know he was there. Rhysand looked surprised. "And you are alright with this?"

"I don't mind it I suppose. It's better than being alone." I smoothed out my night dress, slightly embarrassed by his intense, searching look. He sighed again. "I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable. Do you feel strong enough to go downstairs?"

I pondered for a moment, and decided it'd be better to meet everyone now rather than wait, and nodded my agreement. He took my arm, and led me to the door. Opening it, I saw Azriel waiting outside. "Azriel."

I said, a little surprised. He glanced at me, and fidgeted, his beautiful shadows shifting with him. Rhysand handed me over to him, and I took his arm. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I nodded shyly. With Azriel on one side, and Rhysand on the other, the pair led me down into a large, airy room, with sturdy furniture fashioned a little oddly. Then realizing, I look at Azriel's wings, and the chair back, and saw they had been fashioned for those who bore wings. A loose semicircle of people stood before the entryway. Two looked quite similar to Feyre, one tall and more angry, the other soft and extremely beautiful. The softer one stood by a crimson-haired male with scarring on his face, and on the side of the angry one shifted a rough-hewn male who looked like carved stone, tanned and weathered. In between her, presumably, sisters stood Feyre. On the other side of the rough male who had a set of wings like Azriel was Morrigan, and next to her Amren. Rhysand swept an arm, gesturing to the half-circle. "This is the Court of Dreams, the Inner Circle."

I inclined my head to them, dipping ever so slightly, as much as I could without falling. He brought me to Feyre first. "This is Feyre, my mate, and High Lady of the Night Court. We'll talk about the Courts later."

Feyre's sister, the beautiful one, had soft brown hair like Feyre's, but her features were more rounded, and the high tips of her ears shone pink with life. "Elain Archeron."

She looked at me with fear in her eyes, but took my hand with both of hers and squeezed gently, as if comforting. The crimson-haired male with the mechanical eye took my hand with one of his, the other returning to Elain. Azriel at my side shifted, seeming unsettled. When he spoke, his voice sounded like sunlight, warm, rough, but equally kind and cruel. "Lucien Vanserra, Emissary of the Spring Court. Or at least I was. Now I am the Emissary of the Night Court."

He nodded to Rhysand, his mechanical eye flickering. Scarring that covered his face tightened with his expression. He let go of my hand, and Rhysand swept me to the other side. "Amren, my Second-in Command here."

Her gray eyes glittered, flashing with a deeply hidden hint of silver. "So you decided to stay."

I nodded, my voice strong with determination. "I have."

"Good. We need more like you, shadowsinger or daemati." Her words confused me, and Azriel's shadows swept around me. Morrigan took my hands, her hands rough with callus, yet delicate, declaring, "I like you already. I am the Morrigan."

"The?" I asked. She nodded. "There has only been one like me for a long time."

Considering it, her head tilted prettily, she shook her head, golden hair floating. "I suppose that no longer is true. Please, call me Mor."

"Mor." I tested it out. Azriel's grip tightened on my arm. I looked at him. His expression was taut, nervous. Smiling at me, Mor's gaze softened on Azriel, and she made the barest hint of a nod, before I was moved bodily by Azriel, to the rough-hewn male. His black hair was to his shoulders, tied half-up. His membranous, scarred wings didn't seem quite as large as Azriel's, but he carried himself with the lethal grace of some predatory creature. He wore simple black, but with red stones that glowed from within embedded in the molded leather. "Cassian. I'm Rhys's General Commander of his armies."

I hmm'ed a small noise of acknowledgement to him, and looked at Rhysand and Azriel, in turn. "Should all of you really be telling me this? For all you know, I could be pretending and be an enemy of yours."

There was a moment of silence, and then Cassian laughed abruptly, the others slowly joining him. "Azriel would have known, or Elain would have told us."

Explained Rhys, Elain nodding quietly, their mirth subsiding into Mor's small giggles. "Azriel?"

Was my curious reply. At my side, he nodded silently, lifting a hand wreathed in shadows. "You see these?"

I nodded as well. The shadows danced around my hand, drifting to me, ethereal, yet seeming solid. "They allow me to hear and see things that most wouldn't see. I'm Rhys' spymaster, which is why I travel so much."

That made more sense, what he had said in our earlier conversation, and their trust in me. "So you truly know I am from somewhere else."

Elain spoke, her voice quiet and trembling, the first words I had heard from her. Her dust-pink gown drifted around like it had caught a strong breeze, such were the force of her quivers. "You are not of this world. I have seen that much."

"What of my name?" My own words caught me by surprise, the desperate, driving need to know even a part of who I was. Elain swallowed, her face pale. Her grip on Lucien tightened, and so did his gaze. "Maybe this should wait."

He said. Nesta and Feyre had drifted over to her as we spoke, and they now took her arms, settling her on a chair, soothing her. Lucien remained where he was. Cassian shifted uneasily, crossing and uncrossing his arms. It was Amren who answered my silent questions. "Elain doesn't often speak, and she's the one who saw your arrival originally. She wouldn't tell us, and I don't think she's ready to tell you, nor are you ready to hear."

I bristled at the remark, the implication I wasn't strong enough, but then thought again to my moment of clarity, that I didn't want to know who I was. "Fine,"

I said, standing tall, my voice strong as I could make it. "I will wait however long it takes."

So. If y'all haven't noticed, I'm not an author-person to write author's notes. I used to. Once I started reading more, I found I got annoyed at them, and often skipped the ones in the middle of stories, because of some reason or another. I like uninterrupted reading. But...I do want all my readers to know I appreciate them for reading my drabble, because honestly, this started as drabble, then it became longer, and longer, and longer. I have a 24 page google doc and it's my second-longest google doc ever. Size 14 Astloch font. Ya. But, thanks y'all for reading! I won't be regularly updating, as I'm pretty busy, but I'll get chapters out as fast as I can get 'em.


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